Prank Wars
by Macavroche
Summary: It was autumn when it started, but it was never quite finished. Revenge on top of revenge on top of revenge... Will the wars ever end? Students vs. Gavroche's gang in an epic battle-to the prank DEATH.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: While I do own a Les Mis t-shirt, I do not own Les Mis.**

It was autumn when it started.

The cafe was bustling as usual, with rowdy yells and clinking mugs, but Enjolras sat alone. His friends were all in classes, excepting Grantaire (who was never in class), and it was just as well-planning a revolution requires solitude. And silence, but that was sweet as sugar and equally as difficult to come by.

Enjolras sat in the back as usual, wondering at the fact that not a soul sat within three tables of him. He hoped he didn't seem terribly intimidating, as he sketched a gun in the margin of his notes. He glanced at the clock. 4:30. His friends were due any moment now. 4:35... 4:40... 4:45... Where were they?  
It wasn't like them to be late.

Suddenly, from the back, he heard a shrill, feminine screech, and shouting of voices. Enjolras leaped from his place at the table, ready to aid any damsel in distress, but when he threw open the door to the kitchens he saw, not a damsel, but his good friend Joly, who was mysteriously dripping wet and had a large metal bucket stuck fast on his head. His other friends, Combeferre and Courfeyrac, were desperately trying to pry the bucket off, and Joly continued to scream.

Enjolras paused briefly to take in the scene, then, ignoring the oddities that were extremely abundant, rushed to help his friend.

"Hold still, Joly!" Combeferre grunted, his knuckles turning white in an effort to rid his friend of the bucket.

"And shut up, why don't you!" added Courfeyrac, who had paused in the tugging to put his hands over his ears. Joly stopped screaming, but continued to whine and protest and let out an occasional shout when the bucket scraped at his ears.

Finally, with much effort on Combeferre and Enjolras's part (I refuse to mention Courfeyrac, who spent most of the process banging on the bucket and shouting, "Still all right in there?"), the bucket popped off, and all four men were sent sprawling to the floor. They lay there for a moment, lamenting about pneumonia (Joly), make smart remarks (Courfeyrac), and whacking Courfeyrac (mostly Combeferre, but Enjolras once or twice). Finally, with great effort, all four sat up.

"What the hell was that?!" Enjolras shouted incredulously. "How did you possibly get a bucket of water dumped on your head?!"

"Haven't a clue," Joly replied, "but I'll surely catch cold very quickly if I'm not taken somewhere warm, dry, and without any drafts or mold, preferably out of direct sunlight, and-"

"Yes, yes, soon as possible," Combeferre interrupted him, anticipating a lecture. "But where did the bucket come from?"

"Dunno. I just walked through the door and all of the sudden I was very wet and couldn't see anything. I suppose someone perched it atop the door frame to fall on someone."

"But who would do that?"

Abruptly, Enjolras held up his hand to stop his friends' talking. He looked intently to the back of the kitchen, where several barrels of alcohol and coffee grounds and other goods sat on the floor. He glanced back at his friends and motioned for them to listen. One by one, they all faintly made out a small, muffled sound. Was that... laughter? In one swift movement, Enjolras whisked away the barrel in front to reveal three small children rolling on the floor with their hands over their mouths, giggling freely. Now that they had been revealed, they fully released their laughter, causing the students to smile slightly, contrasting with their frustration towards the obvious culprits.

When all three children finally slowed in their laughter and the men could make out their faces, it became clear: It was Gavroche! The little gamin was often mischievous, but had never played tricks on the students. This was unexpected, to say the least. With him were two other members of his gang: a girl that the men recognized as Marie, the nine-year-old orphan new girl; and a boy named Jacques, the eleven-year-old second-in-command runaway. Marie looked frightened at the prospect of seeing revolutionaries up close, but Gavroche merely continued giggling, clutching his knees to his chest and rolling back and forth endlessly. When he had composed himself and sat up properly, his face was flushed and his big blue eyes were sparkling.

"Hullo, Enjolras. Fancy seeing you here."

"Gavroche..." Joly growled, growing uncharacteristically angry. "Was that bucket the work of your gang?"

"Um..." Gavroche trailed off, glancing from Jacques to Marie back to Joly, his grin unfaltering. "Maybe."

"I'll kill you!" Joly shouted, lunging for the boy. Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac burst into laughter at the sight of Joly rolling around on the floor, yelling and grabbing at the sly, snickering little street children. Finally, all three managed to escape Joly's evil clutches, scrambling to their feet and bolting.

"Ta-ta for now!" Gavroche shouted back over his shoulder mockingly as he ran out the door with his gangmates.

Thus began the Prank War.

**Hopefully this will be a series, if I can remember to update. And if I had time. Exams suck.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Is... is this an update? Is that what these look like? It's been so long... Sorry if Joly's a little OOC... Anywhoodles. Enjy! (Most people say enjoy, I say enjy. Yes, I'm that weird.)**

It took exactly two weeks to the day for Enjolras to decide what to do. As it happened, he didn't even decide, not really.

Joly did.

It was a Tuesday when the medicine student stormed into his room in a rage rivaling Enjolras' own-however, Enjolras directed his at the government. Joly seemed dead set on making Gavroche's gang of street urchins pay for what they'd done.

"Enjolras, if you don't do something, I will. I haven't slept properly in two weeks," were his first words as he strode directly to Enjolras and loomed over him, his fists on his hips. As this was pale, frail Joly, it was quite an amusing sight, but Enjolras dared not laugh.

"Why not?"

"I have been kept awake by paranoia. Those street urchins have kept me on edge!" Joly ran a hand through his hair and collapsed into a wooden chair. Enjolras sympathized, but was helpless against what Gavroche's gang of gamins could do. Unless...

"Don't worry, Joly. I have a plan."

Joly grinned weakly. "You always do."

*****

That evening, several students crept from their rooms carefully-they did not want to wake anyone. Joly, Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Feuilly (Bossuet wanted to join them, but they wouldn't let him, for, as Courfeyrac put it, "We want to get out alive, and having you along won't help matters.")

They were halfway to the elephant when a voice called from the shadows, "Going somewhere, boys?" Eponine's skeletal figure and bleak appearance had blended with the darkness perfectly. Feuilly recovered first.

"Yes, do you know the way to the elephant in the dark?" he said, trying to remain smiling. The sight of Eponine's big eyes nearly glowing in comparison to the blackness was unnerving, to say the least.

"Of course," Eponine replied, stepping into the light from a streetlamp. "Better than I know the route in the day." With those words, she slipped back into the alleyway, motioning for the students to follow.

*****

"Okay, whatcha got," Gavroche called to his gang, standing on top of an old apple crate to assert his authority. The light from the escape hatch in top of the elephant shone down on him like a spotlight.

The children quickly stuck their grubby hands in their various pockets and pulled out whatever was inside.

"A half-eaten muffin!"

"Half a sou!"

"A puppy!" Marie called, revealing some sort of terrier mix from beneath her shirt. The little mutt yipped excitedly. All of the other children groaned.

"Marie! This is the third time this week! Go an' put the puppy outside," Gavroche commanded, pointing out another secret entrance. Stroking the puppy kindly between the ears, Marie meekly crept outside to let the puppy free. She turned back away from the secret entrance, crying quietly over the loss of her puppy, but she knew it was just another mouth to feed, and it would be all right on its own. She was so upset, she didn't notice the odd shadows nearby. She didn't notice the harsh, frantic whispering. And she especially didn't notice when the makeshift lock didn't click behind her.

*****

About an hour later, the small group of children were sleepily collapsing against walls and crates and even each other.

Proud of a good day's work, Gavroche smiled and reached behind him for the shelf that held his top hat. It was his favorite possession, after all... wait.

Gavroche leaped from his seat frantically, suddenly wide awake. The hat was gone, but the shelf wasn't empty. In the hat's place was a small piece of paper with some scribbled writing on it. Gavroche couldn't read more than a few letters, so he called over Jacques. The older boy could read fluently, and quickly relayed the message:

The hat will be returned in exchange for a truce. Meet me the cafe (you know the one) at noon tomorrow with your response.  
-Your Fellow Prankster.

Gavroche's scream could be heard all through Paris.

"Are we going to get it back?" Jacques asked anxiously. He knew how much that hat meant to the gamin. But instead of nodding, Gavroche's face grew hard and he slammed a fist into the opposite palm.

"No. We're going to get even."

**I'm sorry, I don't think this is as long as the last one, and I'm not as proud of it. But hey... it's an update! I promise I won't be as long for the next one.**


	3. Chapter 3

**YES! THIS STORY LIVES ON!**

**I am unimaginably sorry that it's taking me so long to write these. I write them in Notes on my phone, and I only really do that on the school bus... UGH I AM SO SORRY. I promise I haven't given up on this. Stay following, etc etc. NOTE: This is my most successful story yet, review-wise. Thanks guys!**

The next day, it rained.

It rained long and hard, and most of the children stayed inside the elephant that day. Gavroche certainly did. Jacques was of the opinion that resistance was futile, and they should give up now. (These men were planning a revolution, surely the gang could never stand a chance in a prank war. Jacques was not an optimistic boy.) But Gavroche couldn't do that. These were not frightening students, young men who could crush him in a fight. These were his friends, his amis. He teased them daily, and he knew that they would never do anything to hurt him or his kids.

The children moaned and complained of everything from chill to hunger to boredom, but none could bring themselves to go out in the torrents of rain. None but Gavroche. The little leader braved the storm and ran to the Cafe Musain with a mischievous grin on his face. He dodged between buildings and scampered down alleyways, but without his usual joy. This was war.

When he finally arrived at the cafe, the men were having an intense discussion. For these students, an "intense discussion" meant shouting at each other and, for some, drinking. Gavroche grinned maliciously. Perfect.

"Um... Gavroche, are you okay?"

Darn. Prouvaire had caught his malicious grin. Well, Gavroche would show him!

"Just great, Jehan... Just great."

*****

Enjolras stood on a chair, trying in vain to get everyone's attention. Grantaire, of course, was drinking, and creating such a riot that no one else could even tell Enjolras was trying to speak. Finally, Feuilly spoke up.

"EVERYONE QUIET!" The cafe went dead silent in a millisecond. Feuilly NEVER yelled. Enjolras looked down at his friend gratefully from his place on the chair.

"Thank you. Now, we don't have a very long window of time in which to do this, so we need some sort of sign to show us that the time is right..."

As the leader continued talking, Grantaire took another big gulp of his absinthe and promptly spit it all out on Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac gave a very high-pitched shriek and leaped up from his chair. Grantaire was coughing and hacking, scraping at his tongue.

"Salt..." he wheezed, "in my... absinthe..."

Combeferre dipped a finger in his own drink and put in his mouth, pulling a face. "That's salt, all right."

A few of the other men sipped carefully at their drinks, also making similar faces and spitting the liquid back into their mugs.

"How did it get in there?" Bossuet wondered. Joly was appropriately convinced that it was Gavroche's gang. Courfeyrac was all for complaining to the cafe staff. Everyone was arguing-again-but Marius noticed him first.

"Look!" They all spun around to look where their friend was pointing.

Gavroche slipped out of the door before anyone could react, grinning hugely. He gave a small wave, and the door closed. For a moment, everyone was silent. Then, the inevitable chaos.

"Who does he think he-"

"Enjolras!"

"Revenge! Revenge I say!"

"Why would he do such a thing? He's usually such a nice boy-"

"I'll kill him, I will! I'll-"

"Get a hold of yourself, Joly! It's just a prank, and-"

"Salt," Grantaire moaned quietly, "in my absinthe..."

**All prank ideas except the first one are courtesy of Allanna Stone, who was this story's savior. Appearances by Grantaire are made possible by Noroell, who made the genius request. I hope it's all you had dreamed of!**


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